Rhodoreef

32. The Insect Pin

Dea swam after Anuk and perched at the edge of the platform. Water licked her peduncle. She rotated to the side and watched him hoist himself up and bound up to the worktable. His lean form was fitted with a full-body, black suit that was different from his land ensemble. It brought to mind a supervillain outfit with its edgy detail and steel grey lines. Bare human feet stuck out from the leg sleeves.

"How are you feeling?" he asked quietly as he reached for a cylindrical device no bigger than her fist.

She aimed her stare at the water. Dim lights reflected on the surface, warping in the slow circulation currents.

Anuk walked over and sat down just behind her, straddling his long legs—one foot planted on the floor to her left, while the other dangled into the water on her right. She stiffened.

"Relax," he whispered, leaning slightly back—as if he expected her to turn around and swipe at him. "I'm just going to look at the implant, okay?"

She nodded.

"Did you treat this?"

His quiet exhale brushed her ear and spread a cooling sensation on her wet hair. Dea couldn't help dwelling on how close he was, yet so far.

"Just antiseptic," she said under her breath.

"Did you take antibiotics too?"

She nodded again.

"Good. I was worried you might've overlooked it."

Gentle fingers parted her short locks, tickling her scalp. She tuned in to his rhythmic breathing—he did it involuntarily every few seconds. A pleasant tingle blossomed on her skin—an electric current that trickled from her head to the neck. Baby hairs stood up at her nape, and her eyes closed.

"Cherries again," he whispered.

"You knew last time too...You weren't even anywhere near me."

He chuckled, the resonant sound coursing through her. "Mer-products are strongly scented. It makes sense."

Despite the laugh, she couldn't dismiss the unease in his manner. She wasn't the only one grappling with the miasma of impending war. A muted click flitted to her ear, which she thought emanated from his device.

"Merpeople have amazing hearing," he went on. "But...not smell."

"Oh..."

"Smell is useful on land, but not in the ocean. It's hard to describe smells in Mermish. It doesn't have many words for that. Sinhalese has more, even though roughly eighty percent of our sensory impressions are by means of sight."

As fingertips brushed her hair again, a low whirring noise registered in her brain, as well as the notion that something awoke from slumber. She made to turn.

"Hold still," he whispered. "I'm only charging the chip. It's dead, so I can't check if it's working okay."

A portable, wireless charging pad. She wondered if the brain chip needed a specialized charging pad or what she had at home would do the job.

"Where was I?" Anuk said, his euphonic rumble tinged with light-heartedness. "If I were to describe how I perceive your scent, I'd say...a fresh ocean breeze fused with zesty fruit. Heady, warm and...beautiful."

He might as well have fired a flechette into her mental shield. Her heart made a painful throb like a sputtering flame pumping out a fleeting rush of heat. Her head turned of its own accord, blinking rapidly as she homed in on the abyssal depths of his eyes. They gazed into her very soul, just inches away from her.